


to live, to laugh, to love

by irritable



Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: F/F, it is holiday fluff, this is reverse racist dont read if u dont support reverse racism SJFHDSJFHSKJ
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-19
Updated: 2019-12-19
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:41:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21861619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irritable/pseuds/irritable
Summary: Despite loving Chloe the way she does (unabashed, full-body adoration), Nadine will forever be mad at her for choosing to shoot her shot at the 2019 Super White Annual Fisher-Drake Christmas Gathering of all places.
Relationships: Chloe Frazer/Nadine Ross
Comments: 13
Kudos: 97





	to live, to laugh, to love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lisa who doesnt have an ao3](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=lisa+who+doesnt+have+an+ao3).



> me showing up 6 months later w deep eyebags n a cup of coffee i will hate drinking n this stupid idiot fic: so hey,
> 
> fr tho this is messy n i think thats my writing style ksjfhsdkjfh like, i just enjoy silliness hope u do too
> 
> this is 4 lisa. this is her fic. the quotes are inspired by her white landlady's questionable taste in decor and chloes constant state of dehydration is inspired by me bc i am above drinking water

Chloe's been at the 2019 Super White Annual Fisher-Drake Christmas Gathering for all of 45 minutes and she already needs to pee. There’s only one bathroom on the first floor of the Fisher-Drake house but it’s occupied, so she flaps a hand at Nate until he notices. Then, desperate as she is, she makes a vague gesture. From the other side of the room, he gives her a confused wave and goes back to his conversation. That's permission in her book. 

She turns on her heel and takes the stairs two at a time. The bathroom door is open, thank god, and she makes a beeline for it. Lately, Nadine's been pushing her to stay hydrated or whatever. 

(Okay, so "pushing" is a stretch:

"...fine, ja, I'll do it." Chloe grins and opens her mouth, but then Nadine holds a finger up. "One condition."

Chloe scowls. "Ugh."

"You're drinking at least eight litres a day." Chloe's about to cut in and, again, Nadine anticipates it. "Of _water_. Eight litres of water."

"That should count as eight conditions. Are you open to negotiation?"

"No and no."

Chloe throws her hands up. "I never get to enjoy anything. Fine. I'll grab a cup and you go fulfil your end of the deal."

Smug, Nadine grabs the axe on the coffee table, goes out to the backyard, and gets to work. At some point, she takes her top off and slings it over her shoulder, leaving her in only a tanktop. When she's done, she hefts the tree onto her flannel-padded shoulder like it weighs nothing and asks: "Where do I put it?" 

Chloe, from the door, sips water, and watches, and tries not to moan out loud, and sips water.)

(Their Christmas tree is very ugly. They call it Franken-pine. Without real decorations, they had to make do by balancing very expensive artefacts on the leaves and spearing branches through old Halloween napkins Chloe had found at the bottom of a drawer.)

It’s only after she’s finished, as she’s squeezing a very generous amount of Elena’s fancy vanilla soap into her hands, does she notice the wooden panel nailed to the back of the door. 

It’s about as thick as half her thumb, painted a light shade of grey, declaring in bold white lettering: _LIVE, LAUGH, LOVE._

She stares, aghast. The water is still running and the room begins to smell very strongly of Elena's soap.

“Frazer?”

She startles and struggles to open the door with soapy hands. She manages with her elbow instead. On the other side stands Nadine, eyebrows furrowed, one hand pocketed, the other raised as if to knock. 

“Um,” Nadine says, reminding Chloe that she has yet to reply. “You okay?” 

“Yeah,” says she, immediately. Stops, then: “Well, I mean... No, yeah, I’m fine.” 

Nadine steps closer. “Didn’t you only drink half a glass of wine?” 

“Hey,” she protests. “I’m not drunk.”

“Why are you acting like it?”

“Am I?” 

Nadine is unimpressed. 

Finishing up at the sink, Chloe shakes her head and snorts. “Sorry, I’m fine. I think I’m still a little jet-lagged and also Nate and Elena are white.” 

Nadine adorns an expression that is somehow amused, concerned, and incredulous. “And this has only just occurred to you? Seriously, it was only half a glass—”

“I said I’m not— Look.” Chloe pulls her in, pointedly not thinking about how warm Nadine’s skin is in her grip, and closes the door. If it’s another moment before she lets go of Nadine, well, who’s paying attention anyway? Certainly not her. 

“I see.” Nadine nods. “They... sure are white.” 

Chloe looks over, just as Nadine does, too, and the moment their eyes meet, they’re cracking up. 

Once they’ve calmed down and stepped into the hallway, Nadine perks up. Out of nowhere, she seizes Chloe by the elbow, mischievous, and tugs her into the hallway. Chloe follows.

“Come on, I bet they have more.” 

“I like the way you think,” she says and opens the nearest door to reveal a nursery for the baby on the way. “Oh my god.”

Above the crib is a blown-up picture of burning incense, the background tastefully blurred out. It reads: _Be at peace; be serene_. Leaning against the wall, yet to be hung up, is a picture of an overgrown path: _Follow your dreams_.

“Do you think Elena or Nate picked those out?”

Nadine scoffs. “Does it matter? Neither of them thought it was a bad idea.” 

“You’re right.” 

They move on to the next room—the master bedroom—and promptly find the holy grail. 

It’s a framed poster, white background with a collage of words written in a range of loopy fonts printed in baby blue. It’s titled: _House Rules_.

Nadine hums sagely, turns to regard Chloe, and very seriously says, “Never forget to live your truth, Chloe.”

“Okay, I won’t,” Chloe answers, solemnly. “And you, remember that hope is a power that overcomes all adversaries.” 

She nods. “Thank you for imparting your wisdom upon me.” 

“Of course, it‘s what I’m known for.” 

Chloe doesn’t know if she should be offended when Nadine laughs at that. It wouldn’t matter, Nadine is too endearing to ever really be mad at. Especially now, what with the way she’s leaning forward and guffawing at _v_ _alue thy family_. 

“Yeah, it's white but kind of wholesome."

Nadine's tickled pink by the whole thing. "Wasn't Elena showing you her weird ice cube substitutes? Those frozen metal things?"

"Oh, that's what those were for? I just let her dump 'em in my mug, no questions asked." Chloe hums, then, thoughtful. "I mean, at least they season their food.”

“Barely. Not the potatoes.” 

Chloe nudges her. “You’re just saying that ‘cause Nate made it.” 

“Ja.” Nadine straightens up and looks over, eyes bright and warm and unwavering. “And?” 

She makes a conscious decision to stop staring. Instead, she shrugs. “Fair enough. Imagine if Sam cooked.” 

“I’d rather starve,” Nadine deadpans. 

Chloe laughs as she leads the way out. Then, she stops and looks up. On the door is mistletoe on a string, swaying gently in the breeze coming in from the open window. It's one of those cheap fake ones. “Huh.” 

Nadine looks up too. “You haven’t noticed?” 

“What?” 

She points down the hall. “They have one on every door.” 

That’s, honestly, kinda cute. She would never say that though. She would never give Nate the satisfaction. 

“Huh,” she says again. This time, cheekier. Suspicious, Nadine squints at her. "This way." 

She takes off for the bathroom, making sure Nadine’s hot on her heels. Then, she stops and turns abruptly; Nadine, sharp as ever, catches herself before she bowls Chloe over and suddenly they’re nose-to-nose. Nadine, about to say something, thinks against it. Her mouth closes with a click, going just a bit cross-eyed with the sudden proximity of Chloe’s face.

“We’re under a mistletoe,” she says. 

“I can see that.”

“Well, what do you say?” She winks, considers stepping closer but doesn’t, because she’s teasing. She’s just teasing.

“I say you’re a dickhead.”

A pause. “So you _don’t_ want to live, laugh, love with me?”

Nadine huffs a laugh which makes her bob a tiny bit closer which, in turn, makes Chloe’s mouth go dry. Then, she smiles in that way that makes her eyes crinkle at the edges. Affectionately, she tilts her head and reaches up to flick Chloe’s forehead. “You’re a dickhead.” 

Chloe grabs her hand, faux indignant. “You just said I’m full of wisdom!” 

“I don’t think I said that.” 

“You did. I was there.”

Nadine rolls her eyes, lips still curved in that fond smile of hers. Oops—now Chloe’s looking at her mouth and she’s very much aware that she still has Nadine’s fist in her’s. When her eyes flicker back up, she catches Nadine’s eyes watching her mouth too. She really can’t handle that. 

“Hey,” she whispers, shuffles an inch closer. “Can I, uh...?” Licks her lips. 

Nadine’s eyes shoot up, inhales. “Ask.”

“Can I... live my truth— Oi!” Nadine’s hand, the free one, lands on and pushes her entire face back. _Nose squashed_ , she thinks absurdly.

Nadine’s hand falls away. The other one, Chloe’s still holding. “You’re such a dickhead—”

They’re kissing, Chloe practically launching herself forward to bridge the gap. Nadine grunts and instinctively tenses her whole body on impact, back knocking against the doorframe. Her hand goes to Chloe’s cheek, pacifying; there’s no need to rush. 

They kiss languidly for a while, a little too innocently for Chloe’s tastes. 

So, Chloe gropes at a bicep and makes a breathy little sound. That must do something for Nadine because she’s moving her hands and sliding them down Chloe’s arse. And Chloe thinks that’s it, smirking because, yes, her arse is _that_ great. But then Nadine doesn’t stop, slipping them lower, to the back of Chloe’s thighs. She hoists Chloe up and takes a step forward so Chloe gets her turn against the doorframe. 

Immediately, she opens her mouth and deepens the kiss. Her arms snake around Nadine’s neck—

“ _Whoa_!” Nate slaps a hand over his eyes, drama queen that he is. “Seriously? During my Christmas Party?”

Nadine puts her face in Chloe’s neck, sighing very deeply and very impatiently. Chloe wants to kill him. 

“I know you guys don’t even celebrate Christmas and I just wanted to see if you wanted mashed potatoes but—” Chloe gives him the most baleful scowl she can muster. “—you know what? I think I’m going to leave. Please don’t kill me.” 

Once he's gone, Nadine sighs yet again. “I was going to say: if only he were standing by a window so I could toss him out again.” 

“But?” 

“But we’re supposed to be peaceful and serene.” She grins winningly when Chloe snorts at that. Downstairs, the party’s still going full blast—and then they put on _Santa Buddy_ by Michael Bublé. She sets Chloe down but doesn’t go very far, turning to glare at the staircase. “They’re so white.” 

"They are," Chloe agrees. "Anyway, speaking of inspirational quotes. Aren't we supposed to be following our dreams?"

Nadine glances back, about to enquire as to what exactly those dreams are, but Chloe's already leaning in. She holds, above them, the plastic mistletoe stem between thumb and forefinger, ripped off the door, leaves slightly crumpled. Nadine smiles into the kiss.

And, sure, Chloe lives and laughs, nothing remarkable, but oh how she loves, loves, loves. 

**Author's Note:**

> im running on 4hrs of sleep since the 17th n i wrote this w blurry eyeballs on a 16hr flight so pls correct me if i hv typos or whatever, also constructive criticism always welcome
> 
> no, frankenstein is not the monster but that was a good joke anyway
> 
> tumblr @chlodines
> 
> edit: if u gonna bring up reverse racism or whatever in the comments u better be a coc (commenter of colour) otherwise i don't wanna hear it lmao


End file.
